


Hellfire

by OthilaOdal



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Christian Character, Emotional Porn, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Pining, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Repression, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OthilaOdal/pseuds/OthilaOdal
Summary: Mello has grown into a stiff yet revered seventeen year old at Wammy's House. Yet with the arrival of a certain redhead he finds his shaky convictions challenged.Within no time after his arrival, Matt has completely demolished the foundations of Mello's life. Not only is Matt entirely disrespectful towards the balance of hierarchy inside of Wammy's House, he has also made a reputation for himself as a libertine, and, if that wasn't enough, the redhead simply doesn't seem to notice Mello at all.Caught between his own desires and the strong principles under which he was raised, first by his mother, then by the pastors and teachers at Wammy's House, one fateful cold night stuck under the same blanket as Matt, Mello is forced to confront his own duality.
Relationships: Matt | Mail Jeevas & Mello | Mihael Keehl, Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually put notes before a story but I’m going to quickly point out some things so you can understand this story better and don’t go “waaaait a minute” every now and again.
> 
> First off, I wanted Mello and Matt to be at Wammy’s when this fic takes place. The setting is a little critical to the dynamics.
> 
> However, I also felt like a lot of the themes were a little too mature for their canon ages while they were at Wammy's, so the characters are aged up but I still wanted the Wammy’s House setting so they aren’t technically adults, therefore, the warnings are in place.
> 
> Secondly, I removed a critical canon element so the aging up would make sense without disturbing the setting. Besides the generic things (like, L is greatest detective, Wammy’s House is an orphanage, Mello is a successor, Matt is third ranking) everything else is different.
> 
> Kira/Light doesn’t exist so L is alive and everything else is business as usual. So the setting is nearly canon but also not canon at all.
> 
> Mello is 17. Matt is 16. They’re both terribly weird.
> 
> Thank you for letting me run my mouth.

Mello could spot the fiery hair in his peripheral vision, through the tall window a few feet from him. He didn’t need to look. It distracted him everywhere he went. He shifted slightly, frowning at the altar.

“Lord, hear our prayer.” He said.

He hadn’t heard what his prayer was meant to be for the past four months. All he saw was fire from the corner of his eyes. Some days his conviction was a lot weaker and he’d turn his head slightly for a better view out the window. On days like this one, he was far too frustrated with himself to not focus on the mass, which was clearly proving to be a challenge.

One might think that considering how much the sight of Matt distracted him, he’d have chosen a seat deeper in the middle. He had intended on it, he had said the words out loud to himself in the morning, getting dressed in his Sunday best – or at least as good as an orphan teenager could afford.

“I won’t sit by the window.” He had repeated the words to himself while brushing his hair. “Don’t you dare sit by the window!” He had held the brush up to his reflection, threateningly.

Yet when the time came, his feet carried him to the seat by the window. He hadn’t even bothered reprimanding himself. He knew he was lying to his reflection. He’d lie again the next week, and the week after that, like he had lied the week before, and the one before that. It wasn’t as though he didn’t feel guilt. It had just become a guilty pleasure at this point.

It had been about four and a half months since Matt had joined Wammy’s House. All newcomers were put through a one month period of relative isolation, a period of transition. Wammy’s House with its complex rules was a place that took some getting used to and in the isolation of their transition, newcomers would pick out their names, understand the new rules, learn of the opportunity they’d been given, and the cost. The point of the transition was to keep Wammy’s secrets in, and the newcomers’ secrets out.

The transition was longer for some, shorter for others and some never made it through and were sent back into the system once a good foster home had been identified. Mello had spent three weeks in transition. Matt had spent two. Mello had chalked it up to the fact that Mello had been a lot younger, and Roger had trusted him far less. From what he’d heard of Matt, he had accepted his new circumstances quite willingly and from the looks of things the rumors had been true. He had made friends in no time and made it to the top five three months post-transition.

The latter didn’t bother Mello.

Mello had shot to the top two within two weeks and held his position and L’s attention since. The other kids at Wammy’s House had nothing on him. Even Near had taken two whole months.

His chin lifted slightly at the thought and his attention shifted to the mass. Matt should be fascinated with him, not the other way around.

It seemed, however, that Matt wasn’t, not even in the slightest. In fact, the redhead barely saw Mello, which was, Mello admitted, a fairly improbable thing to do. At one point while moving between classes, he’d half thought Matt would walk right through him, the way he talked to one of their classmates, on his tip toes, over Mello’s blond head.

It was infuriating. The boy was barely a resident at Wammy’s House. He had worked on just one of L’s petty little cases for beginners whereas Mello had eight years of experience under his belt, had helped solved countless cases and solved more than a handful by himself. If anything the boy should have groveled for Mello’s attention.

Mello considered saying a silent prayer to seek forgiveness for his pride, but if he was going to ask for forgiveness, perhaps he should start with the fact that he’d spent the past four months' worth of masses paying little to no attention, letting a churning, violent, magnetic mixture of pride, envy and lust keep his focus instead.

“Lord, forgive me.” He whispered making his way to the short line of congregators.

He wouldn’t do it again he promised himself, like he’d done a few times before, while exiting the church building. He kept his eyes straight ahead at main Wammy's House building. He wouldn’t look at the redhead while passing his group of friends, standing around defiantly in the Sunday morning sun, laughing at Mello could only imagine what. He wouldn’t look. He wouldn’t.

He glanced, a quick movement of his eyes to the left as he passed the boys by.

“And she said she wanted to it _in_ the dorm.” He was saying. “I mean I would but she’s loud, y’know?”

Perhaps what bothered Mello most about the red thorn in his side was that he got along well with everyone, too well. Mello knew not to trust those with too many loyalties. People like that were often loyal to no one.

Besides that Matt had, in the four short months of assimilation, made quite a reputation for himself. It was like he was making his way through every willing girl at Wammy’s House. They didn’t seem to mind. Most girls, boys and the rest at Wammy’s House, were quite indifferent towards love and whatever courtship it required. The people who weren’t, understood the importance of communicating their needs. Those who were sexually active were experimental, invested and blunt about it. Those that weren’t, simply didn’t care enough to be.

At Wammy’s sex was like a lesson, an informal study in biology, psychology, sociology and physical education. Those who were interested in the elective took it up with their peers. Those who weren’t didn’t.

All of that was a secret from the management and the church of course. It was more of an open secret among the residents. Though Mello guessed if L had wanted to inform the management, he could’ve, for there was no way he wasn’t aware.

Upon joining Wammy’s House, Matt had shifted the balance in this dynamic quite a bit. He was an unabashed flirt from day one and it was obvious to anyone who saw he was not the sort to find a partner, or two, and conduct his experiments with just them, as was the way for most of the inhabitants at Wammy’s House. Matt’s study of the elective was as much a study of the people he slept with as it was a study of himself.

 _Vanity,_ Mello thought, flipping open the book he’d promised he’d finish by last week, in the quiet of the dorm room, with the window against his back. He wouldn’t look down at the redhead and his group of friends.

Mello understood that Matt was a mixture of vanity and lust. He had told himself that several times over the course of the past four months, yet, like an itch he couldn’t scratch the feeling of rage and envy he felt persisted. He would find himself seated in the dining hall staring right at the redhead fuming.

 _Look at me!_ He’d think and then be exasperated when he didn’t. Often he’d be joined by one or more of his classmates. The conversation with start with “did you hear?” and become yet another conversation about Matt’s adventures with one of the girls.

One time while Mello was leaving the library with Linda after they’d worked on their joint assignment on Facial Recognition they had spotted Matt with another girl from their class through the window, while making their way up the spiral of the stairwell, feeling their way by the moonlight.

She was older than Mello by a few months with one foot almost out of Wammy’s. She ranked lower than fifteen. Mello had frowned at the thought. He could’ve done better but from looking at him Mello could tell he was quite satisfied with his pick. Her back was against the wall of the church building, her leg flung over his hip. He was lost in the groove of her neck, his hand buried deep between her legs. Mello had glanced at Linda, wondering what it’d be like to touch her, if she’d let him feel the heat of her thighs, but by the time he got to his bed in the dorm, the fantasy had twisted. He’d dreamt of his own back against the church wall, and Matt’s flaming head lost in his hair. He had heard when the redhead got back to his bed, refusing to look at him again.

Some days he wanted to consume Matt. Eat him, bite his head right off, break his bones and punish him for having looked in every direction but his. Some days he wanted to be on his knees instead, worshiping at whatever altar Matt was worshiped at.

The weeks since had gone by in a flash. His daydreams about Matt had become his favorite hobby – not that he’d ever admit that. He never made the first move in any of them. In every one of them, the redhead would noticed him, he’d express his desire for him in flaming hot words, Mello would reject him, only for him to pursue Mello more aggressively.

He could never quite picture what would happen once he gave in to the redhead and he firmly believed that this fact indicated that he didn’t hold feelings for Matt, not even lust, but instead simply wanted his attention, perhaps even his respect.

At Wammy’s, they were free to be seated however they wanted, except for when they were in class or in their dorms. All beds and desks were arranged in alphabetical order, making Matt’s bed adjacent to Mello’s and his desk right in front of Mello’s.

This infuriated him further for it meant that Matt could spend upwards of ten hours in Mello’s physical proximity and yet show no signs of having even seen him at all.

Nevertheless, in class Mello had a far easier time ignoring him than he did in church, for whatever reason. There was no way he was going to let the two-bit upstart newbie upstage him in a test. His work continued to be immaculate, and yet through some miracle or insanity, the redhead continued to not notice his existence.

They hadn’t spoken once. No passing hellos or good nights or sorry, nothing. Surely this was the absolute pinnacle of all things outrageous.

Mello was used to a certain amount of fame and reverence, even fear at times, among his peers. You couldn’t go a week at Wammy’s, post-transition, and not know of Mello, or without having looked his way at least once. Mello had however never seen Matt look in his direction, unless it was to look past him.

He shook his head, crossed his legs, and stared harder at the words in the book. He wasn’t going to let one pesky little nobody break his concentration, but what surprised him was the thought that perhaps no one had spoken to him about Mello. Now, that would’ve been truly surprising. He’d have to check if he was still alive.

He shook his head again. It was enough. He had goals that needed accomplishing and no more time for this.

* * *

Winchester was prone to excessively cold weather and some days that was bad news for Wammy’s House. The house functioned entirely on donations received from the elite class of the world as thanks for various favors Wammy extended to them, the best of which was L’s service.

But sometimes L would cross the donors, not reach to the conclusions they preferred, (as if the results of an investigation could be bought) and the funding would dry up. The lights would go out, the heat would get turned off and the maintenance would be neglected.

The coming week turned out to be one such time.

The back-up generators were turned on midweek and besides Roger’s office, the staff room, library and hallways all other areas of the house were in total darkness. The kids shared emergency lights at night to study in the dark, one per a couple of students. These lights were even carried to the lavatories. Some inhabitants were designated to look after the foster children.

The fostering program at Wammy’s House took place twice a year, once in the summer and once in the winter. In the program children (read: exceptional children) from ages four to ten from all over the world were brought to Wammy’s House to spend three months on campus. The goal of this activity was to identify and study – first hand - children who could potentially be brought in as residents. These children shared nearly all the same resources as the resident children, but had a different set of classes, entirely separate from the residents. During “school hours” these children weren’t even allowed in the same wing as the rest of the residents of Wammy’s House.

Mello had first visited Wammy’s House under the program at age eight, before being taken in permanently a year later.

The program was small but it did put strain on the resources at Wammy’s House. Nevertheless, the residents at Wammy’s House shared their resources. Mello chalked it up to empathy.

He placed the light on the bedside table between his and Matt’s bed realizing this was the first time they’d had low power since Matt had joined. Mello had lived through countless such nights. He half considered offering him help.

 _Tell me if you need anything,_ He thought but didn’t say. The boy had spent four months ignoring Mello’s presence. Mello wasn’t going to reward him for his sheer insolence with a conversation. So instead he grabbed his notes and textbook, seated himself in his bed and continued to study.

A friend of Matt’s soon joined him on his bed and they exchanged words in hushed voices. Matt’s videogame lay abandoned on the bed, turned off to conserve power. Mello glanced again from the corner of his eye. They were most likely discussing their recent romp. Mello felt a surge of jealousy bubble in his stomach.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have a chance with any of the girls, or even the boys at Wammy’s House. He had been approached before. It just wasn’t how he was raised. The idea of sex appalled him. He didn’t dare make it more than a day dream. He wouldn’t even whisper it aloud lest he manifested it into being. It wasn’t the thought or even the many glimpses he’d had of the act over the past couple of years that bothered him. It was the shamelessness of it all, the smell, the sounds, the nakedness, the vulnerability. They all crawled under his skin like a million bugs.

If he were ever to fuck someone, he thought he’d need to kill them immediately afterwards. Like a praying mantis, no witnesses, no survivors, none but him and the deeply satisfying sin in his core.

The pastors all advised against the sin of lust, against pre-marital sex and Mello for most of his life had simply assumed that since he never intended to be married, he’d never have to worry about this primal savagery, and for the most part, he still believed he didn’t need to.

He didn’t. He definitely didn’t.

By the time the end of the week rolled around Wammy’s House was in a full-on blackout. Daylight was all they had left as the generators overheated.

There were whispers in the hallway on Saturday afternoon mostly among the newer staff and residents. They wondered why L or Wammy had not done anything about this yet. The newer staff looked around with pity at the children eating their meal in the cold dining hall, wearing nearly everything they owned. Mello simply rolled his eyes. He had seen worse and so had several of the children here.

The residents of Wammy’s House had exceptional unity when it came to watching each other’s backs. Mello had seen it before, the flowing sense of oneness that took over the residents in a time of crisis. They all collectively pooled in their expertise and resources to make things work. In that sense, Wammy’s children were the only family many of them would ever know. There were unspoken rules among them. It didn’t matter how thick the rivalries got, when push came to shove, none of them would hurt anyone they’d shared these halls with.

By the time night time rolled around, the kids were shivering in their rooms. The dorms were harder to heat. The ceilings were too high and the walls were poorly insulated. There wasn’t enough furniture to absorb the heat, and what furniture they had was all metallic, cold as ice. Mello knew what would happen as the hours rolled by – rationing.

“All children are requested to bring their bed rolls, blankets and emergency lights to the dining hall.” Ms. Sheila called over the intercom.

Mello half watched as the blips of Matt’s video games stopped from under his blanket where he’d buried himself to stay warm. He was losing the game, shivering far too much to be any good at it. As Mello rolled his pillow and bed roll under one arm and his blanket under the other, Matt reluctantly stepped out from under his covers. Mello quietly waited for the redhead to get his things in order. His nose was bright red, the color spread through his cheeks into his ears. His hands could barely hold on to anything and yet Mello refused to offer help. He simply picked up the emergency light and waited.

They emptied the dorm quietly. Most of them were too cold to speak. Mello jogged for a moment in place, letting his body produce heat, while they waited for further instructions along the walls in the dining hall.

“Can you believe it?” Linda made her way to him, holding one of the foster children’s hand, a few more followed behind Linda in a single file. “Thrice in two years!”

“It’s just a strange time to be an international detective.” Mello responded. “Most governments think he’s an agent for a rival government when he doesn’t pin the blame on their rivals. It’s petty.”

She sighed. Linda had been here as long as Near had; four years. She understood the importance of the work, but had little patience for the ways of the world. The more she understood of the world, the more jaded it seemed to make her.

Mello looked down at one of the foster children who had trailed in like ducklings behind Linda as the dining hall filled up with more and more residents, caretakers, teaching staff and foster kids. The girl, the foster child, was bony, malnourished and her clothes were not doing enough for her. Mello looked at the fleece blanket she was dragging behind her, and Mello couldn’t resist.

“Is that your bed roll or your blanket?”

She looked at him in a daze at first, like she hadn’t expected a question from him or perhaps he had asked her something she thought was absurd.

“Both?”

Mello nodded and looked away back at Matt who now had his blanket wrapped around him and was hugging his bedroll, watching the caretakers in the room. They were calling out the residents name and helping them form rows of bed on the floor. Matt was watching with a frown that seemed out of place for him. Mello pulled his bed roll out from under his arm and nearly flung it at the little girl.

“Here.” He said. “You can share it with at least two more I think.”

The girl almost buckled under its weight, looking confused.

“Mello!” The caretaker called from behind him and upon turning he realized Matt had left his side and rolled out his bedding onto the floor next to a window on the far end of the hall. It was a spot quite far away from the hearth and close to the passageway leading outside. In other words, it was a cold spot.

Mello trotted over almost unwillingly.

“Your bedroll?” the caretaker asked.

“Gave it to one of the fosters.” Mello responded. “I can use my blanket as a sleeping bag, and maybe bring an extra sweater from upstairs.”

“Nonsense, Mello!” She turned towards Matt. “Do you mind sharing?”

Mello might’ve thought it was the first time Matt had seen Mello were it not for the fact that it was entirely impossible that Matt hadn’t seen him before. It was, however, the first time Matt’s sharp green eyes had met Mello’s. They sent a jolt of panic through Mello’s chest but Mello wouldn’t let that show.

“Of course.” The redhead grinned. “We can share.”

Mello placed the emergency light at the head of their bed roll, and spread his blanket over Matt’s, watched while the redhead sat and scooted towards the wall to make room for Mello, and then Mello sat with the covers around his waist, on a bed roll he knew would smell very strongly of Matt once he lied down. Mello wondered vaguely what Matt might smell like.

“Is it just me or do some of you seem like you’ve done this before?”

Mello didn’t need to look to know the question was directed at him. He simply watched the caretakers and volunteers help the residents and the foster kids find their places in the hall, trying not to fume at the redhead’s insolence. One did not simply pose a question at him.

“Some of us have done this before.” He said.

“You mean this kind of thing happens a lot?”

Mello side-eyed him, wondering if the redhead meant it as an insult but his face looked genuine enough, staring out at the hall just like Mello had been.

“At least once a year.” He said. “It’s happening more frequently lately.”

“Strange time to be an international detective, huh?”

 _So he had been listening,_ Mello thought and simply nodded in response.

“How long does it usually last?”

“Well the shortest one lasted a couple of days.” Mello pulled his knees up to his chin. “The longest was five months – nearly six.”

“Whoa!” He could tell Matt was leaning forward towards him. “You’ve gone six months without electricity?!”

Mello thought Matt’s interest was long overdue, but a part of him seemed to welcome the attention. Matt’s voice was something deep and warm and powerful. It made Mello think of volcanoes, bubbling under thick rock, dangerous and inviting.

“No we haven’t. We go into damage control and conservation mode two weeks after a blackout.”

Matt was hesitating to ask. Mello relished the quiet seconds until his next question. Most people were in their bedding by now, having the final conversations of the night. There was both a mix of exhaustion and excitement in the air. The caretakers were setting their beds in the kitchens and lighting up the large hearth at the end of the hall, and the ones in the kitchens.

“What kind of damage control?”

“The church raises funds.” Mello informed. “Some of the children organize drives. And…” Mello trailed for a moment realizing that what came next would be brand new to Matt. “…the top five take on cases.”

“What?!” The redhead was leaning forward so as to read Mello’s face.

Mello could no longer keep his eyes on the hall, he met Matt’s eyes again, wide from disbelief. Mello had never noticed before how red his lips were. Was it the cold? Or were they always so lush?

“Real cases?!”

“Yes, real ones.”

“That’s exploitation!”

“On paper it’s L who’s taking on the cases.”

“It’s still – “

“I’m well aware.” Mello shot him a glare, and looked back out at the crowd of bedrolls and lumpy blankets, the turned off emergency lights and the kids shivered to adjust to the change in temperature. “But we’re family. We look out for each other.”

“Uh, no offense but shouldn’t L and Wammy be providing –“

“You need to trust L more,” Mello shot the redhead down again. “Or should he be giving in to pressure just because our funding will dry up if he doesn’t provide the result self-satisfied little rich folks want? Who would you sell out or build a case against to make sure you continue to have heat and light and a warm shower? Do you think the people who pay our bills do it because they care about justice or morality?! Let me let you in on a secret. They pay our bills because they want to buy our expertise, our prestige, our integrity. They want the brand that L represents on their side. L, on the other hand, does what he does to make truths known, simple puzzle-solving. But the ultimate truth is that the truth serves the people. So as long as L continues to be himself, the people continue to have faith in the results we provide. Trust me it’d be easier for us all if we sold out and took the money. Do you think the world’s greatest detective, can’t be the world’s greatest criminal? It’s a choice we all will have to make at some point.” He realized he was glaring daggers at him. He was shrinking away a little, looking this way or that to avoid meeting Mello’s eye. Mello found himself enjoying the reaction so he pushed further. “Besides, weren’t you informed of the cost of coming here?”

“I was, but –“

“Then shut up and do your part.” Mello might’ve felt bad for cutting him off, maybe he had overstepped. Perhaps he’d been holding back his anger for too long, but he told himself it was deserved. After all, he had shown no respect or appreciation for the House since he’d gotten there, carefree, coasting his way through the halls, the ranks and the people. “The system isn’t perfect. No system is. The point is to constantly evolve it.”

“We’re just kids.”

“Perhaps you should remember that when you’re balls deep in the girls.” Mello smirked, unable to stop the poison from spilling from between his lips. “Or do you tell yourself you’re old enough for that?”

Matt chuckled. Mello thought he noticed a hint of red in his cheeks, but it was too dark to tell. The last of the lights in the hall were dying out, and the fire could be tricking Mello’s eyes.

“That’s just…” He trailed off, not meeting Mello’s eyes again.

“Speaking of girls.” Mello gestured towards the tall dark girl tip toeing her way towards them. Most of the children were now in their bed rolls. There were a few whispers here and there. Most of the caretakers had left. There was no light save for that from the flames in the hearth.

“Hey Matt.” She grinned at him and Mello couldn’t get himself to look at her anymore so he stared down at his hands instead, rubbing them together to warm them. “I was wondering, if you’re particularly cold tonight, I can share some heat with you.”

The redhead let out a little laugh, running his hand through his hair.

 _Vanity,_ Mello thought again.

“Not tonight, Jackie.” He said. “I’m already sharing heat with someone.”

Mello’s neck swiveled before he could stop himself. He caught a flash of limbs in his mind’s eye - their limbs, Mello’s own sun kissed legs in a tangle with Matt’s pale arms. He saw Matt’s fiery red hair, softly caressing his own skin. He was hellfire. Mello was sure of it and he’d heard that hellfire could burn him for an eternity, but no one had warned him of how badly he’d want to submit to it.

He glared daggers at Matt as the coil-haired girl walked away.

“I don’t like being talked about that way.” Mello let him know.

“Sorry, altar boy,” Matt chuckled. “Force of habit.”

“Just leave me out of your nonsense.” Mello said, lying down and pulling the blanket over him.

This was enough Matt for him to last him a lifetime. He was flashy and irritating and Mello couldn’t wait to be asleep so he didn’t have to be aware of his presence anymore. But the redhead’s presence was hot heat against his back, prickling the hair on his nape, like flames licking at his spine.

 _Detergent,_ Mello thought. _He smells like detergent._ He had half expected ash and brimstone.

At night Mello dreamt of the quick glance he’d shot him while leaving the church, of Matt’s eye catching his and their worlds colliding. He’d give in eventually, but not before Matt had begged him to, properly, again, like in all his dreams.

Mello woke up in the middle of the night, half because the dreams won’t leave him alone and half because of Matt’s incessant shivering behind him.

 _I didn’t think the devil could catch a cold,_ He thought coolly, but he half worried the redhead had really caught something. Wammy’s House wasn’t a stranger to kids dying of colds.

Mello shifted a little under their covers to move closer to Matt thinking that perhaps it was the space between them that was becoming the source of the cold. He could almost feel the shivering against his back. Matt had slept facing Mello’s back from what Mello could tell. He shifted a little again, not wanting Matt to know that the movements were for his benefit.

The shivering stopped for a moment, and Mello feigned sleep. He almost blew his cover as Matt’s head lightly thudded against his back, right between his shoulder blades. Heat rose in Mello’s neck but he kept himself still. He was wide awake now, looking at the large hall full of teenagers fast asleep, with younger kids closer to the hearth than the rest of them. There was no movement or sound except of the occasional distant snoring.

Then there were hands, cold ones, against the small of his back, a hard exhale and a low moan. Mello stayed frozen, feeling his heart sink. A hand slipped over his waist, stealing heat from his skin, from over his thick night shirt. He clenched, ground his teeth, half considered shoving the redhead’s hands off, but somehow movement wasn’t coming naturally to him anymore.

He stared wide-eyed at the West Wall hangings, breathing forcefully slow so his heart wouldn’t jump out of his throat, and told himself that Matt was asleep.

Matt’s movements had ceased. His forehead now lay pressed against Mello’s back, just below his nape, one hand lightly caressing the small of Mello’s back, and the other rested in the curve of Mello’s waist, leaving half an arm’s length between their bodies, but all content with having stolen the heat from Mello’s back. It was quite literally the closest they’d been in the past four months.

Mello felt an itch in his chest, something between irritation and sadness. He shifted again, a little defiantly this time, unable to hold back his disappointment. Matt’s hand slipped around his chest. Mello felt his face move higher up Mello’s nape, felt his hot breath against his ear. Without thinking he pressed his back into the redhead’s chest, earning another soft moan, barely audible.

Almost instinctively, Mello’s hand reached back for Matt’s thigh, stopping halfway, awkwardly hovering over his own hip. For a moment he considered making a more natural movement, keeping the flimsy cover he was sure he’d already broken, but he couldn’t think of anything, and brought his hand right back, tucking it under his chin.

“Mmm’not gonna stop now, are you?”

The whisper nearly destroyed Mello. His skin took turns going hot and cold. There was a loud rush of thoughts in his head, and he understood not one of them. Matt’s lips caressed his ear. The arm he had around Mello's chest pulled him closer. His leg carefully wrapped over Mello's hip. Mello wouldn’t have realized the urgency in Matt’s actions if it hadn’t been for Matt’s hand pressed hard and unmoving against Mello’s collar bone. He was digging himself carefully yet hungrily into Mello’s hair, a light kiss against Mello’s nape, a deafening breath against the back of his head.

Then it was a little too much for Mello, the sound of his heartbeat had grown too loud for him to hear his own thoughts, not that he’d understand them if he did, and the heat travelling down from his navel was scorching him. He ground his hips against the redhead’s. A stifled moan escaped him in a hoarse breath. He thought he needed to stop, but his hand had a deathly grip on Matt’s wrist, threatening him against letting go now, and his head was turning back to find the lips that owed him so much, to steal the words from the redhead, the words of love, lust and surrender, all that he deserved for four months of this burning torment deep inside his throat.

The opportunity for a kiss came with a crack of Mello’s spine, but Mello was in too deep to care about it. Matt’s hand was against his neck now, moving upwards now, his thumb pressed against Mello’s jaw, his fingers pulling blond hair now. His hands lost Mello’s attention to his mouth, playing lightly against Mello’s, pecking one moment, and biting another.

 _How dare he!_ Mello thought, elbowing the redhead, causing him to immediately let go off of Mello’s neck.

Mello shoved the blanket in his rage, turning over to face the redhead. For a moment he simply glared at him stalling to figure out his next move. Matt’s lips were wet, eyes half lidded, staring at Mello through his lashes. His eyes always seemed to laugh. Mello hated this. The perpetual mischief on his face, made his lip curl. He grabbed the redhead by his face and pulled it to him, kissing deeply, hungrily. He thought he might bite his tongue, eat him completely. They’d find blood and bones in the morning. He’d consume him so fully.

Mello’s own violence scared him and the obvious swelling in Matt’s pyjamas wasn’t helping. He shoved the redhead back again, breathing hard like he’d been out for a run.

 _Out!_ He thought and his legs moved by themselves, like the wind, barely standing him up before he broke into a sprint through the bedrolls to the back of the hall, nearly slipping as he turned through the passageway to the staff entrance.

He slipped through the doors out into the night, thankful for the cold wind slapping his cheeks, and the blades of grass cutting against his freezing bare feet. He wasn’t sure if he’d been heard or seen sprinting out into the moonlit grassy grounds of Wammy’s House, but he didn’t dare look back. His feet carried him exactly where he needed to go, straight to church, straight to the altar, knees banging against the rustic stone floor, hands clasping the rosary under his shirt. He could still feel the redhead’s lips caress his nape, where his rosary was, rolling the beads against his neck.

Mello took it off, wiping it like it had been tainted. He clutched at it, rubbing the red beads till his knuckles were white, but no words came to him, no apologies, no shame, no regret. He was barely even there, barely before God. He felt the rosary more than he felt divine presence and he felt the hot heat on his back more than it all, and the softness of Matt’s lips, the tenderness of his tongue, the girth of his erection. He stared in horror at the marble floor, slowly realizing he didn’t mind hellfire.

* * *

“Don’t,” Mello threatened. “Don’t come any closer.”

When Matt found Mello, he was already on the other side of the grounds, behind the farthest west-facing wall of the church building, less than fifty meters from the front gate they had all once walked through, with the moon shining down on him.

Mello was seated on a bench, rosary half stuffed in his pocket with his left hand. Matt had just shown up from around the corner.

“It’s cold.” Matt’s voice was low.

Mello nodded, staring out at the gates, gagged completely by the grape vines the ground keepers had spent years tending to. The cold felt like a relief to him, a punishment well deserved.

“Let’s go back inside, okay?” He urged, holding back shivers. His voice was still something rumbling, deep and warm.

“Like volcanoes.” Mello whispered.

“What?”

“Your voice. It’s warm.”

There was a deep sigh. “Stop it.” The redhead whispered. “I’m tired of being in this game with you.”

Mello frowned, looking up at him. “What do you –“

“You stare all the damn time!” He was walking over to him. Mello shifted, getting ready to sprint again. “You don’t speak to me, show no kindness. In the beginning you barely even seemed to hear it when Roger said you were to help me figure out my timetable and classes and equipment and what not. You simply nodded and never even bothered with me again! I –" He breathed hard. “I was lost for two whole weeks before Cal and the rest decided to help me figure out where the classes were, what was expected - And you! You fumed every day since! Like I had done something to you by, what? By living?! By settling here despite your absolute lack of help?! And then you lecture me about family?!”

“Wait –“ Mello shook his head, not understanding where any of it was coming from.

“This isn’t just your home or your family!” His voice wasn’t loud, it was a carefully contained hoarse whisper, like it was taking all his effort to not yell at him. “It’s mine too! I don’t fucking need this shit!”

 _That didn’t sound like begging,_ Mello thought rolling his eyes.

“And you think I don’t know, but I do. I’ve seen you stare out the window of that church at me, every goddamn Sunday! If you want something why don’t you just come and get it?!”

“I don’t want anything from you!” Mello was standing now, fists balled tightly at his sides, clutching his rosary. His face was red and he was grateful for the blue of the moonlight. “You don’t matter to me.”

“Do you grind against everyone that doesn’t matter to you, altar boy? Or was tonight just one of those nights?”

“No!” Mello half yelled. “I’m not like you, feeling up everyone I can get my hands on.”

“I haven’t done anything any of them objected to. We all know what we’re signing up for with each other.” His lips were curled and for a moment Mello wondered if they weren’t in fact evenly matched. “You on the other hand, I have no idea what I signed up for with you.”

“Don’t bullshit me!” Mello took two steps towards him. “You talk about them afterwards with your friends. You have no honor.”

“Honor?!” Matt laughed. “You, or my friends, haven’t heard of the ones that didn’t want me talking about them. Not everything I do is for show!”

Mello took a step back. Had there been more? He had counted six and every day it had grown harder and harder to not be cold to them. He had always felt like they had stolen from him, taken something he’d wanted for himself, but had there been more? In all his four months of carefully watching Matt, hearing about his adventures, having seen him in the act first hand, he had never seen anyone besides those six girls.

“And do tell, what honor is there in standing around wanting something and never asking for it from your own two proud little lips?” His face swung towards the ground, like he was spitting at it. “This considered, it’s a miracle your pride allowed you to cry for your mother’s tit.”

Mello slapped him hard, hand and rosary both struck Matt across his chiseled high cheekbones. His mother’s rosary was all he had kept through the transition, carefully concealed under his clothes. Faith hadn’t even been his thing in the beginning and sometimes he thought he only prayed because it made him feel like his mother was there with him when he did. Upon her death, he had stolen the rosary before her sisters could pawn the red jasper beads off. He had held on to it like a lifeline, the only part of his mother he could still access.

It felt fitting that it should strike Matt too but a slap didn’t feel enough and Mello clubbed fists against Matt’s chest.

“Don’t,” one hit. “Talk,” and another. “About,” and another. “My mom.” A shove.

The shove left Matt on the floor.

“You know nothing!”

He was on top of him, knees digging into the soil on either of Matt’s sides, seated on his warm belly, pushing his hands violently away, grabbing his wrists.

“You don’t either!”

He grabbed Mello’s nape, pulling him down into another kiss. Mello kept beating his hands against the redhead’s chest, biting his lip harder than he should. There were tears and a little blood, but the redhead didn’t let go, he just pulled on him harder, one hand on Mello’s back, pinning him, his crotch grinding hard and willfully between Mello’s legs.

Mello slowed down, more tears flowed down his cheeks. He didn’t understand what was making him break now like a dam.

“Then tell me.” Matt whispered, lips still against Mello’s. “Tell me what I don’t know. Let me tell you what I know, as well.”

“You know nothing.” Mello whispered back, defeated.

“I know that it’s costing you. These walls you’ve built, the ones that’re making you cry right now. They’re costing you.”

“You don’t know anything.” Mello softly slammed another fist against Matt’s chest.

“I don’t care, though.” Another kiss, smaller this time. “I decided months ago that I’d climb them.”

Mello blinked at him, sitting up.

“You’re not the only prodigy around here.” He was caressing Mello’s hair now, lightly, letting the base of his palms wipe Mello’s tears, balancing himself on his elbow. “I want you so bad.”

There was an ardor on Matt’s face that sent chills down Mello’s spine, he shivered a little against the cold winds, shutting his eyes to the scene to let the last of his tears fall. The redhead’s hand was still on his face, fingers lost in his hair. His thumb caressed Mello’s cheek and Mello found himself leaning into the feeling.

“I don’t remember it.” He blinked down at Matt. “I don’t remember Roger assigning you to me.”

“You were whining about how you had a test and didn’t have time for this shit.” Matt’s lips were curled in a soft smile. Mello hated the perpetual mischief on his face. “You looked like you hadn’t slept in days. I hated you instantly.”

“I wasn’t…” Mello shrank away from Matt’s hand. “I don’t think I meant to…”

“You did. You meant every word of it. I appreciated the honesty, hated the taste of it. I hated you for it.”

“I must’ve been-“

“You can say you’re sorry, if your pride allows.” Matt was smiling wider at him now. Mello hated that he loved it all, the twinkle in his eyes, and the purple flame of his moonlit hair.

“I am.”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

“Linda told me what you were like.” He said. “She said you’re careless of others when you’re too busy caring too hard about something else.”

“Linda?” Mello frowned. “You haven’t…“

Matt rolled his eyes. “No I haven’t slept with her.”

Mello’s eyes narrowed at him. “You have, haven’t you?”

“I’m not gonna say it.”

“She’s one of the ones that doesn’t want you talking about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s my friend!”

“I know that.”

“And you fucked her anyway!”

“You don’t own me, Mello.”

A silence fell between them, the wind was soft but punishing on their skin but he stayed still, both arms in the grass supporting his back, staring at Mello with the flattest expression like he had just given Mello the time. So Mello sat, on his belly waiting for a movement, a sound. He didn’t own Matt, he was aware but there was – in fact, there had been – an unspoken thread he had weaved around their little game of Glance-and-Ignore that had made him feel like some of Matt was owed to him.

“But if you want to,” the redhead finally broke the silence. “Own me, that is, you can ask.”

“Don’t underestimate my pride.” Mello barked at him.

“Don’t underestimate mine.” The boy sat up and Mello needed to move backwards onto his thighs. The expression he wore now was new on him, no jest, no sparkle, just flat pride, a tight jaw and hooded eyes, judging Mello.

“I want you so bad.” Matt repeated with far less warmth than before. “I’ll be at your heels if you need me to be but it doesn’t come without a price.” He gave Mello a moment. “Let me in through those walls. Tell me what you want.”

Mello grabbed his shirt violently, pulled his face inches from his own. “I want to fuck you. I want to twist you up and consume every fucking bit of you. I want to know you like no one does, your darkest crevices, all your broken bits. I want you to ache for me. I want you at your limits and I promise you, I’ll bring you right back. And I promise I’ll be kind, I’ll go down on my knees when you need me to. I’ll shed all my pride, all my walls, all my shame. I’ll be vulnerable, a crab without a shell, a dog with his belly up but you cannot,” He yanked Matt’s shirt again. “You cannot abuse your privilege. You can leave if you like, but you cannot be disloyal.”

Matt rubbed his forehead against Mello’s, breathing hoarsely against Mello’s cheek. Mello could feel his erection again. He wondered vaguely, if Matt was a sadist to get that hard with that frankly embarrassing confession of all of his fears and love.

“Fuck me.” Mello whispered into his ear. “Hard.”

“You sure about that, altar boy?” Matt chuckled, breathing hard against Mello’s ear. “First time isn’t as easy as it looks. This isn’t a porno.”

Mello pushed him down again, slamming his back against the cold wet grass with a crunch, earning a little “oof” in response.

“There’s a time and a place for tenderness,” He said. “And it’s not in the middle of a Saturday night, with your back against the ground.” He reached for the redhead’s erection behind him, squeezing it. “And certainly not when you’re this hard.”

Mello grabbed his face, kissing him again, this time grazing against his jaw. As he kissed the redhead’s neck, he earned a deep rumbling groan, making him dig deeper into the groove of his neck. He winced as Mello bit him, clutching Mello’s thighs and scraping fingernails over them.

His fingers were cold when they slipped under Mello’s shirt, only a little at first and then deeper, caressing his spine lightly. Mello arched his back, gasping as his face left the warmth of Matt’s neck and met the cold air.

“What’s the matter, altar boy?” Matt chuckled. “Too sensitive, are you?”

Mello balanced himself on his palms, eyes shut, feeling Matt’s icy fingers trace down his spine. One hand traced around his waist, making its way up his belly while the other pressed him down into Matt.

“Have you ever even been touched like this?” Matt asked.

 _Shut up,_ Mello thought, grimacing but his breath hitched when Matt’s hand reached his nipple.

“Fuck!”

Matt snickered again. The redhead sat up and caressed Mello’s collar bones with his lips. Mello had to sit back onto the wet ground between Matt’s legs, wrapping his own legs around the base of Matt’s back. “Frankly I didn’t think you could curse at all but I suppose a temper like that would come with a dirty mouth.”

His words were hot air against Mello’s shirt, suffocating him, but his erection was worse, hard and purposeful against Mello’s own comparatively unexcited dick. Mello hadn’t realized the real deal would scare him the way it did but he wouldn’t let the redhead know, not under any circumstances.

He grabbed Matt’s hair, momentarily noting the softness and grimaced against kisses landing on his chest. The lower Matt trailed down his chest, the more Mello had to arch his back. He tried not to moan but his skin was burning, cursing the shirt between the kisses and his chest, cursing the weather and his own decision to fuck right outside. It was probably a stupid decision in hindsight, some sad attempt at recreating what Matt had probably had with the girl he’d seen him with, but that was another thing he wouldn’t let the redhead know.

The redhead pinched his nipple under his shirt and Mello winced, instinctively rubbing his pelvis against Matt’s. He breathed onto Mello’s pinched nipple over his shirt, and bit him through it.

Mello’s face grew hot and his eyes, teary. The heat spread down his back. He wrapped his arm around Matt’s purple moonlit head, realizing he was still gripping his rosary. He dug his bare feet into the cold grass. Matt chuckled again.

“You’re awake.”

The red in Mello’s face deepened. He hadn’t realized that Matt would be able to feel the rush of blood running through his dick like he could feel Matt’s. It didn’t feel like it was smack in the middle of a winter night anymore, the way his neck grew unbearably hot. There was a moment of panic in which he thought he might run again but the redhead’s grip on his back was strong and his nipple was clamped too tight between Matt’s fingers.

“Ease up on that!” He seethed.

“On what?” Matt was snickering, pushing against Mello’s arms to resurface and meet Mello’s gaze but Mello pushed his head back down.

“Just stop teasing!”

“What happens when I…” He pulled his fingers out from under Mello’s shirt, much to Mello’s relief. When they came back though Mello realized they were wet and warm, slipping playfully over Mello’s hard nipple.

Mello was ripping up the grass under his toes, his hard length pressed tensely against Matt’s.

“Altar boy, you’re quite easy to play with.”

Mello pulled violently at Matt’s hair forcing him to look up.

“I’m not a toy!”

The redhead’s skin was aglow, sweat beading on his forehead where Mello’s arm had held him. His eyes were something needy and yet he smiled up at Mello.

“No you’re not. You’re a gift from heaven,” hair still tightly in Mello’s clutches, he licked along the blond’s upper lip with the tip of his tongue. “For all the good I’ve done this year.”

Mello clicked his tongue, letting Matt’s hair slip through his fingers. “What good have you done?”

“I’ve had my fingers,” Matt’s hand slid down Mello’s chest, “in a lot of really bad places,” his hand pushed through the elastic of Mello’s pyjamas one finger at a time, “to make a lot of people,” until he was all in to his wrist, “feel really good.” His fingers lightly caressed the length of Mello’s erection, circling the tip.

Mello swallowed hard, his heart was racing and he didn’t dare look up from Matt’s concealed hand in his pyjamas lest he saw his own deep pleasure reflected in Matt’s eyes.

“Or maybe,” Matt kissed him on the cheek as his grip tightened on Matt’s shoulders. “I’m your gift, for how good you’ve been all these years, altar boy.”

Mello whimpered, breathing hard against Matt’s cheek.

“It hurts a little.” He said in a small voice.

“I’m only touching.” And he was. His touch was light, up and down Mello’s shaft, grazing his balls lightly when he was down and circling the tip when he got to the top.

“But it hurts.” Mello was starting to feel lightheaded. He half scolded himself for giving Matt any details.

“Is it pain pain or is it like throbbing?”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

Matt laughed a little. “You’re just – uhm – very hot right now.” He edged his hips closer to Mello, which before that moment Mello had thought wasn't possible.

“Don’t explain it to me!” Mello scolded.

“No, no, of course not.” He smiled at Mello, facing him, strands of Mello’s hair stuck to his. “You know everything.”

The precum was soaking through Mello’s pyjamas.

“Is it okay if I…?” He pulled at Mello’s pyjamas a little bit and waited for Mello’s approval.

Mello nodded, and Matt pulled his pyjamas over his erection out into the warmth they had made between their legs. He gripped the shaft, drooling a little onto Mello’s erection and a little onto his own knuckles, and moved over the length.

“Wait,” Mello nearly moaned. “You’re still…”

Mello watched as the redhead drooled more onto his own palm, holding Mello’s gaze, and stroked his dick again.

 _Shameless,_ Mello thought, biting his lip. His eyes fell again on the movements of Matt’s hand over his length.

“I’m right here.” The redhead pressed Mello’s glistening dick against his own clothed one.

“You’re getting your PJ’s dirty.”

Matt’s laugh turned into a sigh and then into a moan as he gripped their dicks together, squeezing a little tightly. He kissed Mello again. Mello could feel the damp spit on his chin as their lips slipped over each other’s.

“We’ve already got our hands and feet dirty, and you’re worried about my PJ’s?” He asked.

“The caretakers will notice the stains.”

“Oh! And they’ll talk about the altar boy, getting fucked in the moonlight.” Matt gasped. His mischief was unbearable but so was his hand. The movements were faster now, with more precum and more of Matt’s spit. “How ever will you live with yourself then?”

“They’re your PJ’s.” Mello seethed. “They’ve probably washed a lot of your crusty clothes.”

“Don’t worry.” Matt squeezed, and a whimper escaped Mello. “You won’t ever be able to wash me off of you.”

He kissed Mello again, a quick and easy movement to slip his tongue right through Mello’s lips, and for a moment Mello feared he might be right.

“I want to see…” Mello whispered. “…you.”

“I haven’t tied your hands.”

Mello thought his hands trembled a bit as he reached for Matt, whose gaze he could now feel right on him. His hand had slowed and all his concentration was on watching Mello’s expression as he reached for his dick.

“Just do what I did.” Matt instructed.

“I know what to do!” Mello exclaimed under his breath as he pulled Matt’s pyjamas away from his waist. He had a shock of red hair that Mello thought was both vile and arousing at the same time. Mello had always neatly trimmed his own, unable to make peace with the side of him he had ignored for the most part, until a certain redhead had come crashing through the gates of Wammy’s House.

He reached for what had, for the past fifteen minutes, felt like a monster against his inner thigh. Mello’s grip was light and careful, just the fingertips in action, as he pulled Matt’s erection out. It wasn’t a monster at all, nor was it all that big, Mello noted, but somehow it had felt like it.

He was uncut but taut and beading at the head, which Mello thought just added to the vile yet lewdly arousing look his untrimmed red hair gave his privates.

“I won’t break if you grip harder.” He said and Mello immediately gripped Matt’s erection with his whole hand.

“Like this?” He seethed at Matt through his teeth. His grip was rough and tight and Matt simply drew his chin into his neck and moaned.

“Mmmmm yes!” He gasped. “Like that.”

Mello mirrored Matt. Pulling his hair back with one hand, he drooled onto Matt’s erection, a little at first, and then more when he realized there was no dignified way to do this right. Matt pressed Mello’s dick against his, wrapping a thumb around it to grip them both.

“And this is called frotting.”

Mello felt himself go red. “Shut up! You’re shameless.”

“And what exactly are you, with your cock out in the cold?” His hand moved faster now. “Mister Fuck-Me-Hard? The horny little altar boy? Sir Grinds-Against-People-While-They-Sleep? Duke of Knows-He-Wants-To-Fuck-But-Doesn’t-Know-How?”

Every name he called Mello was punctuated by more of his saliva dripping onto their shafts, every word was uttered through clenched teeth and it seemed, to Mello, that with each word his strokes got faster, to the point where all Mello could do was watch, moan, and feel every inch of his body twitch with need.

“I bet this is what you think about staring soulfully out the window in the church, don’t you? Wait, aren’t you going to Mass tomorrow? What’re you gonna do? Sit by the window and think about me? Or get on your knees and confess?”

Red didn’t describe Mello anymore. Fire seemed to have swallowed him completely. There was an ache in his hips from having his legs apart for so long. His right hand simply pulled on the elastic of Matt’s pyjamas and his left clung to the shirt over Matt’s chest, rosary and all, shaking violently as Matt stroked their lengths.

“Forgive me Father for I have –“

Mello yanked at his shirt pulling him into a kiss. Their teeth clacked together for a moment, and Matt groaned loudly into his mouth. Mello pulled more, sliding his tongue against Matt’s and ignoring the sticky spit on his chin. He bit at the redhead’s lip again, and licked the little blood that squeezed out from the cut he’d left there the last time he’d bitten. He pulled more, until Matt had to reshuffle his legs, until Mello couldn’t balance anymore and fell on his back, landing with a soft thud against the grassy ground. Matt moved to lean over him.

“I said shut the fuck up.” Mello whispered hoarsely.

“I want to be your dirty little secret.” Matt whispered back, hand still moving over their shafts.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t be ashamed. I like it. I want to be consumed.”

Mello moaned. He was beginning to hate this position, his back against the ground and the moonlight shining mercilessly down on him. He felt seen, vulnerable. The grassy grounds seemed too big. Where would he even run to if he tried? And the redhead watched him like a hawk, squirming against the ground, so defenseless and exposed. He hated that too.

“Stop it.” He whispered. “Don’t look.”

Matt kissed his jaw, a small gentle kiss.

“Put this in your mouth for me.” He said offering Mello two fingers. Mello obliged, slipping his tongue under and between them both.

“Let’s try this. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

For a moment they were peeled apart and it felt worse for Mello than it had a moment ago. Matt pulled Mello’s pyjamas high into the air, over his soiled ankles and off his feet. And then he was back, two fingers in Mello’s mouth and a freshly wet palm around both their erections, pressed together.

When they were wet he carefully used his fingers to feel around between Mello’s legs. With a shocked gasp Mello realized what he was trying. For a moment he thought he might stop him but he didn’t. He looked away towards the blue of the night grass in the field, his heart racing mercilessly.

Another gasp escaped him as Matt gently yet deeply pressed his fingers against Mello’s hole.

“Winter is not a good time for this, out in the open.”

“I don’t need a lesson. Shut up and fuck me.”

“Wow! That’s not a very nice way to treat someone who’s providing you a service.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Oh you didn’t?! Was it faeries whispering “fuck me hard” at me?”

“I – no. I meant, I said –“

“You said fuck me and I’m trying. But you’re so not nice.”

“What do you want from me?!” Mello tore his gaze away from the grass and looked up at him exasperated.

“I want you to realize that I want you too.” He said, pressing hard into Mello again. “So, as cute as you look, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me how much you like this, kiss me again. Consume me, Mello, the way you said you want to. Don’t back down.”

“I can’t!”

One of Matt’s fingers slid in only a little and Mello gasped again.

“Why not?”

“I just – The words – they aren’t coming to me.”

“That’s so cute.” Matt snickered. “I can try to make telling me easier for you. I can ask you if you like this. Do you?”

He spat again in his hand and rubbed his palm over Mello’s erection, gently circling over it and squeezing.

Mello winced. “Yes.” He said. “Yes, I do.”

“I do too.” Matt smiled down at him. “And how about this?”

His finger pressed deeper into Mello.

Mello moaned again. “Yes that too!”

Mello tried balancing himself on one arm, the left one, with the rosary still tangled around his wrist, and, drooling onto his right hand, reached for Matt’s erection, tugging gently at the top of it. The redhead’s moans confirmed it, but Mello chose to pose the question anyway.

“Do you like this?” He asked.

“Yes.” He smiled.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, grabbing more of him, twisting and pulling.

“Yes,” He said, sliding a thumb over the head of Mello’s own beading manhood. “This and so much more.”

He carefully lowered himself onto Mello, letting go off of his shaft and wrapping his arm around Mello’s back.

“Tell me something though,” He said. “Have you done this before?”

“No?” Mello gave him a confused look but he was sure it just came off needy. His hips were pressing into Mello’s now, Mello’s erection flat against Matt’s abdomen.

“This says you have.” He gestured with his eyes to where his hand was, buried between Mello’s thighs, fingering him in shallow quick strokes. “Who did you do it with?”

“No one!” Mello felt heat rise in his face again.

Matt pressed his chest into Mello’s moaning in Mello’s ear, making it too stuffy for Mello to be able to continue rubbing him out. Mello pulled his hand out from between them and wrapped it around Matt’s shoulders.

“I really haven’t.” He said. “Not with anyone.”

Matt seemed to pause for a little less than a second and then the movement came back, quick shallow strokes with two of his fingers, and hard grinding of his crotch against Mello’s. Mello moaned, gripping his shoulders with one hand and his hair with the other, falling back onto the ground.

“Not with anyone.” He whispered in Mello’s ear, groaning a little. “What about alone?”

Mello felt himself get redder and from the sounds of it so did Matt. He chuckled next to Mello.

“You’re too much.” He said. “This whole night is too much. I’d never have thought. Honestly. I thought I had lost you at hello.”

 _Why would you even want me, after all these months of looking right through me?_ Mello thought.

“You know? I first saw you when I came in as a foster.” He said and Mello felt his chest grow cold. “It was just glances during dinner. You barely looked up but I thought you were like the sun. Roger didn’t say much but he hinted at “gifted children” and what not. You and I both know children are never all that gifted, not enough to last on talent alone anyway. So I worked hard to get here. It didn’t bother me though. I just wanted to be in the sunlight.”

Mello tugged at his hair forcing the redhead to meet his gaze. He was a deep red in the face, Mello could tell, even in the moonlight and even with his eyes clouded over like that. _Matt had accepted the rules faster than most. He had assimilated quickly._ Mello thought, frowning up at him.

“Didn’t you see my meteoric rise?” He asked. “Though, I’m a little afraid I’ll fly too close to the sun.”

“What happens if you do?”

He looked away for the briefest of moments. Mello wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been reading him so intently. The red in his cheeks grew deeper and he hid it all behind a chuckle.

“I’ll fall for sure.”

Mello pushed him, rolled him over to his back, feeling his fingers slip out of him. There was an emptiness Mello felt at losing his fingers but he was more concerned with the fire in his chest. He leaned into the redhead, one hand placed firmly by Matt’s head. With his other hand he mimicked Matt, as perfectly as he could manage, gathering his own saliva on his palm, with eyes firmly locked with the redheads. He reached for their cocks and rubbed them both together. Matt groaned, his arm falling above his head.

“Is this what you came for?” Mello asked. “You wanted us pressed against each other?” He ground his hips against Matt’s, squeezing their dicks together, earning another moan. “The sun, am I? No wonder you got so hard so fast. All I did was sleep next to you and you were hard and ready for me. Look at how full of yourself you got.” He rocked against Matt’s hips in a steady rhythm. “You say I just watch you and don’t make a move. But you’ve been watching forever. Like a demon, haunting me. Look at the mess you’ve made. All that fucking around but it just wasn’t the real deal, was it? Did you close your eyes and pretend it was me?”

He met the redhead’s gaze with a curled lip, like he was disgusted at the mere sight of him. His feelings, all the things he hadn’t said, were welling up. Matt was keening before Mello on the ground, biting his lips raw. Mello ground harder against him, watching the desperation grow in his eyes.

“Here I was thinking “who is this _boy_ who thinks himself so above me that he won’t even look at me”?” He feigned confusion. “But no you’re just too afraid to look directly at me, aren’t you? Did you think showing up would be enough to make me fall for you?! Does the sun fall from the sky for you?! The audacity! Two bit upstart, you overestimate yourself. If you want me, you have to beg for me!”

“Ah! Mello!”

“I said beg!”

“Yes! Please!”

“That’s not enough.”

“For fuck’s sake! Just!” The redhead covered his eyes with his arms but Mello could still see him grinding his teeth.

“I am your gift from god, say it!”

“Yes, fuck! You’re my gift from god!” He was panting but Mello wouldn’t relent.

“Yes,” Mello squeezed his balls, tugging lightly at them. “Now say you’re not worthy.”

“I’m not worthy.” His voice was hoarse now, and he seemed to have realized there was no point hiding his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re pulsating.” He said. “I can feel you. Do the girls know you like to be shamed like this?”

He spat in his hand again, harshly and unnecessarily this time. Matt was oozing enough to keep the both of them wet. He let his own erection go, deciding he wanted to sink Matt lower. Was it spite or retribution? It didn’t matter. He wanted to watch the redhead collapse. He twisted and pulled at his erection, occasionally sliding a thumb over his head.

The redhead was writhing now, wincing and moaning with each movement of Mello’s arm. He was finding words too, indecipherable ones.

“Are you too close to the sun yet?” Mello asked but the redhead just bit his lip, his chest rising and falling rapidly, occasionally craning his neck for a look at Mello’s hand.

Mello squeezed harder, earning a moan from Matt that made him glance up at the main building for a bit to see if they’d been heard. _It’s far enough,_ he thought. _And that was a sweet sound._

“I asked you a question.” Mello demanded, keeping strength in his grip and maintaining his pace. “Are you close to the sun yet?”

The redhead was panting, ripping grass from over his head without realizing it.

“Yes!” He moaned. “Yes! God! Oh! So fucking close!”

“Then fall.”

Matt scrunched as he came, watching himself spill a white hot mess over his shirt and Mello relentlessly rubbed him out. He let out a deep guttural moan and let his head fall back, staring up at Mello through narrowed eyes. Mello wiped off the thick runny liquid on Matt’s shirt with his own fingers and licked himself, from his wrist to his fingertips, keeping his gaze fixed on Matt’s. He took in the color in Matt’s face, the moonlight dancing on his freckles and on the sweat on his upper lip, and the red of his hair like the jasper beads of his rosary.

The redhead reached lazily for Mello’s hair, tucking it behind his ear and smiled softly up at him through parted lips.

As Matt peeled his back off the ground, Mello sat back on his own legs, knees apart to make room for his own throbbing erection. He felt lightheaded. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had an erection for this long. He usually got rid of them as quickly and clinically as he could manage, usually not just to avoid them, but to avoid his thoughts, his desires. The few times he had given in to his desires, they had been entirely unmanageable. Those were the times he’d stolen the baby oil the nurse sometimes used for the younger kids, locked himself in the janitor’s closet and fingered himself until he was done. It had gone on for years until now. Now he didn’t know if that would suffice.

But he wasn’t going to let the redhead find out, not under any circumstances, not yet.

Matt slumped onto the cold ground like he couldn’t tell it was still cold out. He rested his head on Mello’s bare thigh. Mello’s pyjamas lay neglected near them.

Mello simply watched the boy make himself comfortable, like a smiling lapdog. He watched as Matt placed one hand on Mello’s thigh, rubbing on the inner side of it with his thumb. Then the boy shifted, caressed Mello’s aching dick. For a moment, Mello thought it’d be enough to make him come, but he soon realized Matt wasn’t going to finish him with a touch.

The redhead glanced up at him smiling and shifted his gaze to Mello’s erection. Mello gasped as Matt licked his dick gently, with just the tip of his tongue, lapping at it, moving upwards and turning onto his chest as he did it. He teased the rim of Mello’s head as he reached it, making Mello bead at the tip. He kissed the bead away, rubbing the wetness over the head and parted his lips just a little to take the head of Mello’s dick in.

Mello winced at the heat of Matt’s mouth, awkwardly glancing at the main building of Wammy’s House again. He didn’t dare touch Matt, didn’t dare disturb the delicate balance the redhead had built.

For a while it was just that, the redhead periodically moved up and down the head of Mello’s, caressing the rest of his shaft with his fingers, but then he took Mello in deeper with each stroke and soon Mello could feel nothing but heat around himself.

Once he reached the base of Mello’s dick, he pulled him all out, gasping. He drooled over Mello’s dick and rubbed with both his hands. He wrapped an arm around Mello, reaching between Mello’s cheeks. It was too difficult a position for him to finger him, Mello knew, but he rimmed Mello’s hole, and kept his fingers pressed firmly on the entrance as he went to town on Mello’s erection.

“Oh fuck!” Mello cursed through grit teeth, feeling the surge through him.

Matt took him all the way in, so deep Mello could feel is throat. He choked on Mello making Mello wince again. He grabbed onto Matt’s hair, trying not to push him down. Matt found a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down between Mello’s legs and each time he reached the base of Mello’s dick he pressed at Mello’s hole harder.

“Aren’t I doing so well?” Matt asked letting Mello’s cock slip out of his mouth. “Your demon, showing gratitude for his gift from god?”

He spat and took Mello back into the warmth of his mouth. Mello moaned as Matt picked up pace.

“You aren’t saying anything.” He glanced up at Mello, before reaching low with his tongue to lick Mello’s balls. “Aren’t you pleased?”

Mello bit his lower lip. “Yes.” His voice was so small it could’ve been a whisper. “So pleased.”

Matt hummed in response, chuckling a little into Mello’s dick. “Happy to lick all this filthy sin off of you.” He moved his tongue around the head of Mello’s dick and took it back into his mouth. Mello thought he might bite his lower lip bloody.

“Yes.” He said, stroking Matt’s hair. “Take it all in.”

The redhead rolled his tongue over and under Mello’s throbbing cock. His finger steadily pressed onto Mello’s hole. Mello could see his own breath in the cold but the heat filling deep inside him was scalding and familiar. Of their own volition his hips moved in a circular motion against Matt’s teasing little fingertips and his knees parted more, invitingly. He bent forward, grabbing Matt’s fleece shirt. He moaned deeply. He didn’t think he could take it much longer, the lewd slurping sounds of Matt sucking him off, and the soft wetness of his tongue rising and falling against his dick. The heat inside grew stronger until his lips trembled violently, his eyes rolled up to the moon and his voice grew louder. He felt possessed. The words spilling from his lips barely felt his own, like he was speaking in tongues. He was telling Matt how good his pretty red mouth looked around his cock, how bad his cock had been, how he needed to be treated like this, like the dirty little sinner he was, how he was too weak to overcome the desire of the flesh.

“Anh! Yes, suck it all right out of me.” He moaned, trying to focus on his words. “You’re the only one who can do it, my fucking demon. Suck me dry.”

He was panting and the words became lost to him again. He clutched hard at Matt’s shirt, the rosary jangled against his wrist. He twisted his wrist to hide it under Matt’s shirt. He was beyond redemption and beyond caring about it too.

The heat burst deep inside him and he shut his eyes to it, pulling both Matt’s hair and his shirt to himself.

He knew he moaned deeply, probably spoke the Lord’s name in vain, but it didn’t quite register in the hazy heat. He panted, hanging his head as he felt his cum, probably mixed with Matt’s saliva, stream down through the creases of his body, between his legs, where they dripped quietly onto the ground.

Matt shuffled, sitting up to look at him.

“I’m so twisted.” Mello whispered to him, right before Matt’s lips met his.

“Yeah, altar boy.” Matt chuckled. “That was…something.”

Mello reached for his pyjamas. There was grass clinging to his skin, and dirt as well, not to mention fluids. He considered bathing. It felt most pragmatic to focus only on what needed to happen next. He’d think about the rest of it later. He could tell Matt was getting back onto his feet as he pulled the pyjamas on.

Matt pulled at his arm pulling him closer and gently wrapping his arms around Mello’s hips. Mello felt himself blush as Matt kissed him again, small pecks like he was a delicate little thing, once on his lips, then on his cheek, both his eyes, then the other check and his lips again.

“You’re perfect.” Mello felt his chest swell as the redhead smiled at him. “And I can’t wait for more of that disgusting display next time, preferably somewhere where it’s warm.” He was tucking his shirt in and rubbing his arms for warmth. Mello frowned quizzically at him.

“What? Didn’t I say you can own me if you ask?” He grinned at Mello. “You’re not gonna disappoint me now, are you?”

“I guess not.” Mello sighed as Matt took his hand, and they made their way back to the main building.

“Hey,” Matt pulled at his hand, turning back to look at him. The moon shone bright and low behind him, and a silhouette of the main building framed his bright face. “I’ve heard so many contradicting opinions of you since I got here. You’re always either an angel or the spawn of the devil. There never seems to be an in between.” Mello frowned a little. “But from my perspective, you’re something of a young god, still figuring your powers out.”

And Mello felt himself settle, like a gear clicking into place.

Matt's grip on his hand felt firm and sure. After all, hellfire was eternal.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
